


entropy

by moloch



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Gavin is a jock, M/M, Mentioned Freewood, Michael is a nerd, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moloch/pseuds/moloch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones, resident video game enthusiast and all-around nerd, quite literally smashes into Gavin Free, resident asshole jock. It doesn't work for them, until it does. </p><p>or: michael and his friends gossip about the jocks at the lunch table behind theirs for three years until one of the jocks in question actually speaks to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you're good at being perfect

 

 

Freshman year, Michael Jones decides _on the spot_ that whoever that kid over there with the floppy hair is — yeah, he’s an idiot. 

 

However, it’s his first day in a new school, he knows absolutely no one, and while he cares more about getting to class on time than the raging (British?) idiot tripping into the locker sections to gain a laugh, Michael decides that just for once, he’ll entertain idiocy. So when Michael cautiously steps past the boy on the floor, clad in a purple polo, his hair splayed out in different directions, Michael smiles at him goofily before pushing his glasses up his nose and going on his way. Green-blue eyes flash to meet his gaze, but Michael refuses to dwell on them. He has Geometry first period, and he doesn’t want to sit in the front. 

 

In Geometry class, Michael measures the extent of his teacher’s dark circles and determines that he either probably has too many children or deals with too many children — so he thinks he’ll take it easy in this class. He won’t fuck with the teacher or the people around him (as he usually does whilst maintaining a steady 100 in the class), but he _will_ allow himself to think of the guy he stepped over in the hallways today.

  
But only for a bit. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ray only makes a lasting impression on him when he notices his t-shirt. It’s a blatant cry for help; a shirt dictating that the wearer enjoys both video games and memes, and Michael decides to take the kid under his wing. He slides into the seat next to him during lunch with a smile before adjusting his beanie and pushing up his glasses for the umpteenth time that day. Ray had chosen a weird place to sit: the table nearer to the back of the cafeteria right in front of the window. 

 

“‘Sup.” Michael says politely, with a subtle nod to the mush on Ray’s lunch tray.

 

The kid visibly starts, head jerking up to meet Michael’s gaze. “Well, you’re straight-forward, aren’t you?” Michael smirks in reply before opening up his packet of carrots (the only edible thing he got from lunch that day) and pitching one right into his mouth. 

 

“You’re Ray, right? I think I heard the bio teacher call you out for napping right in front of her.” Michael grins sardonically, chewing his carrots. Ray’s ears turn pink. “I wasn’t _napping_ , I just put my head down for a second.”

 

Michael scoffs, another carrot going in. “Who even falls asleep on the first day?”

Ray smirks as well, hand going to reach into Michael’s bag of carrots. Michael lets him, because Ray has potential and it’s the first day of school. “Not me, as I said not forty seconds ago. Besides, I was up playing Halo. But yeah — Ray Narvaez Jr., here.”

 

Michael’s eyebrows raise and it clicks. He thinks he’s found the man of his dreams. In a totally platonic, I-wanna-beat-your-ass-in-video-games kind of way. Like the best of relationships. “Halo, huh?” Michael grins and finishes his carrots. “I’m Michael Jones.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s only a month into Michael’s entire high school experience when he sees that kid’s eyes again. Because they’re connected to a body that’s pressed right up against him. Why? Because that dumbass fucking idiot tripped right over his own feet _again_ and took Michael to the grimy floor of the halls in a move that would’ve rivaled the best WWE stars. 

 

So there he was, glasses having been knocked to the floor, considering the penalties of springing a boner (Hey - cute guy - on _top_ of him - shut the fuck up), as the dumbass fuckin’ _wriggled_ around on top of him, squealing, trying to roll off. Michael rolled his eyes and steadied the kid by maneuvering his arms up against their chests, where he pushed up gently against the guy’s shirt. 

 

“Usually if you want to say ‘hello’, you use your mouth instead of your body.”

 

The guy’s eyes widened, and he quickly pulled away, arms flailing, only to fly into a nearby classroom. Michael rolled his eyes again, located his glasses, shoved them onto his nose, and pulled himself off the ground. Then he stalked off to biology, completely content in taking advantage of the lab day to complain to Ray about the people he had to deal with at their stupid school.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The week after Christmas break brought Barbara, Miles, and by default, Kerry, to his and Ray’s lunch table. Barbara was a cute blonde who liked video games that were organized above all others. Miles fell for games with a killer storyline (and where Miles went, a cute kid named Kerry did as well). Michael spent most of their lunch hour reaching over the table to poke at Kerry’s baby face, much to Miles’ disdain (“Careful! What if he _bruises_?!” “Cheeks can’t bruise from a poke, Miles.” “Let’s not _test_ that theory, Michael!”). 

 

It would turn out to be that the five of them would be best friends for all four years of high school. They obviously bonded over their mutual love of games. Michael, easily the smartest of all of them (with Miles’ intelligence not lingering far behind), would always help with homework and studying for tests with an easy eye roll. Ray would bring the entertainment, shouting random, stupid jokes at random points of the day, and at lunch: stuffing things in his nose. Barbara complained about boys and girls alike, and Miles and Kerry teased her endlessly about it. 

 

However, Michael never mentioned his growing crush on that kid who insisted on tripping, not walking, through the halls every chance he got. He seemed to be popular with the jock-types, though. Maybe he was around for comic relief or something. If anything, he was cute. But Michael was fourteen, almost fifteen, and his dick was just probably confused. However, he was more mature than at least 87% of the teenage population at their school, so he knew that having a meaningless crush on someone like that kid wasn’t going anywhere. 

 

Although it was kind of hard to distract himself from staring at the kid whenever he got the chance to, because there was no one else to look at in school. Besides Barbara and her friend Lindsay, but the only flirting he did with Barbara was braid her hair shittily once a month, and Lindsay was a cheerleader a year ahead of all of them. 

 

And maybe he kind-of-didn’t-want-to-date-them-because-even-though-they-were-really-cute-they-were-kind-of-missing-a-dick-and-okay-sure-boobs-were-great-but-Michael-had-been-slowly-accepting-the-fact-that-he- _liked_ -dick-over-the-course-of-the-last-few-confusing-birthdays-so-shut-the-fuck-up-he’s-not-explaining-himself-to-anyone.

 

So Michael let himself have the guy with the blue-green, pretty eyes. He kept quiet about the guy with the blue-green eyes. He didn’t bring up the kid with the blue-green eyes to his friends, not even when he began referring to as the guy with the blue-green eyes as Gavin Free in sophomore year. 

 

Michael focused completely on schoolwork and maintaining the ultimate relationship with the dorks he called his best friends. His near perfect average at the ends of freshman and sophomore year was simply proof that he had his shit together. 

 

He refused to let himself drool over Gavin (publicly) when he looked out the window of the lunchroom and Gavin was outside with his friends, hair as messy as ever, kicking a soccer ball around in the field. He didn’t let himself make a comment on how good Gavin looked after he had apparently spent the summer between sophomore and junior year in Italy (thanks to Barbara’s passing comment of what she had heard from Lindsay, who sat at the jock’s table and apparently knew all the popular kids’ gossip), tanning every second he could. (He also _did not_ have dreams about Gavin speaking Italian to him. Or touching him. Or _anything_.) 

 

Not even during the late summer before junior year, when Michael finally came out quietly to his friends like it was easy and it hadn’t been plaguing him for months, when he sniffled and cried on Barbara’s shoulder after she hugged him and told him that it didn’t matter at all, not even when Ray, Miles, and Kerry dog piled him and smothered him in their version of dumb boy love and support, not even when Ray straight up asked him jokingly, “So, ya gonna fuck that jock, Gavin Free? All the ladies are after him! He probably has abs!” to make him feel better. Michael only scoffed, rolled his eyes as always, swiped away his stressed tears, and planted a messy, wet kiss onto Ray’s cheek. “You’re the only woman for me, Ray. We all know it.” 

Not even when Gavin was transferred into his AP Calculus class the second week of school in junior year (to Michael’s utter confusion, because Gavin had become a stereotypical jock with stereotypical jock friends — and all of _those_ jocks were taking easy classes junior year, with the exception of Ryan Haywood, who was a complete _genius._ Like, no one even know why he was still bothering with high school. But shit, why the fuck was Gavin taking motherfucking AP Calc? Could he actually handle it? Was Gavin smart? Oh god. _Was Gavin smart_? All of Michael’s fantasies portrayed Gavin as the hot asshole idiot who he wanted to fuck as a one off to blow it out of his system but _if Gavin was smart Michael was so totally utterly fucked because there was a chance that there would be something there,_ more _than mindless fucking in a grimy school locker room after Gavin ran in from practice, like Michael’s deep, well-thought out fantasies. Oops)._

 

Not even when Gavin sat a mere two desks away from him, and Gavin looked over at him nearly every five minutes. Not when Gavin made eye contact with him before immediately scribbling something down onto a piece of loose leaf and tossing it across the room to the person Michael knew was Gavin's friend, Ryan, who simply cast an easy glance back at him with a quirked smile.

 

Not when Gavin was made captain of the soccer team after two years of being a minor addition to the team and Barbara dragged the whole crew to all of their soccer games because Lindsay was cheering in the games and they “have to support a friend! If it were me you guys would be cheering _with me_ ”, which was completely, one hundred percent true, because Barbara was persuasive as fuck and they all already knew that Miles looked cute in a skirt.

 

Not when Gavin Free, all sweaty and grinning at his team looked up into the crowd, saw Michael, and raised an eyebrow before leaning down and murmuring something to his friend.

 

Nope. Not even then.

 

Michael was not about to get his hopes up for a dumb jock that may or may not have had potential at some point in his life, because Michael did not _need_ a boyfriend. He’d never need a boyfriend or a partner or anything like that. Michael knew how to handle himself. He could control himself. 

  
And besides, all the coy looks and glances from Michael to his friends didn’t exactly _redeem_ him in any way. Knowing the jock type from the countless teen movies he had watched simply meant that Michael was going to be _She’s The Man_ ’d, also known as he was going to be forced through a grueling makeover in order to win the guy that was performing the makeover on him, or he’d be _Sixteen Candles_ ’d, also known as he was going to make out with Gavin after a series of horrible, life changing scenes that involved him nearly giving his underwear to a creepy freshman in a half broken down vehicle. 

 

In his opinion, the latter would always seem more appealing than the former. But he was keeping his boxers on. And long story short? Michael wanted to fuck Gavin (or vice versa, _whatever_ ), but he didn’t nearly trust Gavin enough for that to ever actually happen.

 

Another long story short: Michael thought about this shit way too much. 

 

Fuck.


	2. i think about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, hand still poised over the last of his chips, shrugged. “I mean, he’s kind of attractive, I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to bone me.”

“He keeps looking over here,” sang Ray quietly, head cast downward toward his meal but his gaze focused on _him_ , two tables away (nearer to the middle of the room, of course. Only the Michael and his table of losers type sat in the back near the windows and the recycling bins). “Who wants to bet he’s trying to look at Barbara’s tits — which look _great_ today, might I add?”

 

Michael smirked as Barbara rose out of her seat next to Miles and Kerry to cuff Ray (next to him) on the ear gently, adding a “You’re lucky you’re not _into_ tits, asshole”, before collapsing back into her seat and chugging her chocolate milk and tuning out Ray’s cry of “I’m a little into tits!”.

 

Michael had decidedly ignored Ray’s comment, as his back was turned to Gavin’s table anyway. With his friends, showing interest in something was never just out of curiosity, but Michael did allow himself to quip, “Like Free’s into those _anyway_ ,” which was at least half true, in his defense. Gavin had totally had a thing with Ryan Haywood in sophomore year, subject to party fever or carnal lust — AKA they made out in Geoff Ramsey’s parents’ bedroom and got stains on the comforter, something Geoff liked to remind them of loudly and whilst standing atop their lunch table.

 

At Michael’s comment, Miles and Kerry snorted from their seats next to Barbara before nodding at each other in agreement. Ray kicked Kerry in the shin under the table before he furrowed his eyebrows, leaning in a little closer to the table. “But actually, he’s looking over here. A lot.” Michael raised his own eyebrows and restrained himself from turning around to look as well. “And since we can safely say he’s not trying to peep at Barbara’s lovely — _ow, never mind_ — uh, he’s either admiring Michael’s ass or one of the dorks on her side of the table." 

 

Michael immediately felt his cheeks grow hot. Of course, he was one hundred percent fine with Gavin Free checking out his ass. He had a nice ass. He totally did squats like. Once every year. He straightened his spine, just in case his posture was turning Gavin off from his ass. Then he dug into Ray. 

 

“He’s probably trying to understand the physics of Kerry’s adorable cheeks. They defy the laws of — science.” Michael returned intelligently. Barbara quirked a well-groomed brow. “Don’t deny that you have a nice ass, Mikey.” 

 

Michael smirked. “Don’t call me that. But I know it.”

  
Miles snorted again and turned away to unabashedly stare in Gavin’s direction. “Actually — he might really be checking Michael out?” his voice tilted up at the end of his sentence in disbelief. Michael was immediately offended. Was he not good enough for the likes of the asshole jock? He decided to take a chance in offering his curiosity to the group.

 

“What makes you think that?” he muttered, hand moving to his plate to pick up a few stray chips, hoping his voice was utterly nonchalant. 

 

Of course, Ray saw through his bullshit. “Uh. Do you _want_ him to be checking you out?” 

 

Michael paused in his chip journey. “It’s an honest question,” he replied, which he instantly knew was the wrong thing to say — too polite for Michael Jones — as Ray’s eyebrows nearly flew off his head in shock. 

 

“Holy shit!” Ray exclaimed loudly. Then, a level lower. “You _want_ him to be checking you out!” At that, everyone else’s heads snapped up to attention and turned to face Michael. Which was understandable, as they had been waiting nearly three long years for Michael to exhibit even a remote interest in _anyone._

 

Michael, hand still poised over the last of his chips, shrugged. “I mean, he’s kind of attractive, I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to bone me.” _You’re lying, you lying fuck_ ,his brain supplied helpfully. _You’ve been wanting to bone_ him _since the second his eyes met yours. How_ Romeo and Juliet _of you, you piece of shit_. 

 

Ray gaped at Michael openly. After a moment, he turned to Miles, Kerry, and Barbara. “Okay, Operation MDIFPTW—” (Ray said something resembling “midifpitiw”) “—is a go.” 

 

Michael choked a little. “How the fuck do you have an o _peration_ set up for me?”

 

Ray rolled his eyes. “We’ve had this prepared since the summer of freshman year, after you complained about not making out with anyone since that shitty kiss you shared with Tiffany in sixth grade.” 

 

Michael shoved his head into his hands. “That was before you knew I was gay, too, you assholes. What the fuck does MD whatever even _mean_?” 

 

Barbara grinned, then spoke up. “Michael’s Dick Is Finally Put To Work. We thought it up together. Ideas like Michael’s Penis Is Finally Used and Operation Sad Sack Of Shit were thrown around too.” She smiled demurely, elbow resting on the table like nothing was wrong and she wasn’t acting like a giant dick. “You haven’t even hooked up with anyone, dude. And you may be a total nerd, but you’re a hot nerd.”

 

Michael didn’t know whether or not to throw up out of embarrassment, laugh at the fact that he was so pathetic his friends began an _operation_ in his name, or die on the spot — because of embarrassment and of how pathetic he was. 

 

But then Barbara had to open her mouth again, and of course, her volume level was just a little _too loud_. 

  
“And obviously it helps that your dick is apparently huge.” Then, quieter, as Michael’s fury-filled gaze snapped to hers. “Um, according to Ray.”

 

Michael’s entire face was red. His chest was probably red too. He most likely looked insane as he slowly turned around in his seat to see if anyone had heard what Barbara had said. And of course, Gavin’s _entire_ table looked like they were choking back laughter, with Joel, Ryan, Jack, and Geoff sporting equal looks of pink-faced terror. Gavin himself exhibited pink cheeks and a slack jaw, which kind of made him look a little fucked-out. Which Michael exhaled harshly at. And almost got hard at. By accident.

 

Turning around with a glare that just screamed _I’m gonna fucking kill you_ , Michael pinned each of his table mates down with it and then promptly stood up, taking his tray with him.

 

“I’m gonna go to the library for the rest of free period to code until I cry. Fuck you, assholes.” 

 

And then he flashed a smile at his friends and dumped his trash into the garbage to his immediate right.

 

He _did not_ spare a single look in Gavin Free’s direction.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A note was tossed onto Michael’s desk during his sixth period class (right after lunch), AP US History. Michael loathed the class, as it was comprised of essays and horrible, seemingly never-ending tests at the end of each and every week. And his teacher wasn’t even distractingly hot. _That_ probably sucked the most. 

 

Michael found himself frowning deeper and deeper at his history teacher, asking himself over and over why the guy wasn’t hot, until he heard a decisive _ahem_ from in front of him.

 

Oh. The note.

 

Michael rolled his eyes and opened the note slowly, finding exactly what he expected: Ray’s shitty chicken-scratch handwriting and half an apology masked by an essay of plots.

 

 _sorry for telling barb that you have a huge dick but_ _usually_ _guys kind of want other people to know that they have a huge dick? you’d do it for me. <3_

 

_anyway. operation MDIFPTW is in full effect, seeing as you’ve got a giant boner constantly pointing in the direction of gav._

 

That was where Michael gave up on reading the note. He rolled his eyes and stuffed it into his pocket before composing a note of his own. 

 

_lay off. don’t you think that if i wanted to fuck someone — free or otherwise — i could do it without a little help from my friends?_

 

_p.s. hope you’re paying attention to the lesson b/c i wasted half the class grossing myself out over our teacher’s ass_

 

_p.s.s. i liked operation sad sack of shit better._

 

Michael folded up the note and threw it in a smooth arc over the heads of two students before it landed right on Ray’s desk with a soft click. 

 

“Fuck yes!” Michael whispered, fist pumping slightly. 

 

Of course, like every high school cliché, his teacher whirled around from his stare-down at the blackboard and focused a pissed off gaze onto Michael. 

 

“Ah yes, Michael! Since you seem so willing to spend class time talking to yourself, maybe you can tell me which way the main routes of American Indian Removal in the 1830s moved?”

 

Michael scoffed. “Mainly west.”

 

Thank fucking Christ he actually looked over his notes last night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

AP Calc was horrible.

 

Michael knew exactly what was going on in _class_ — he could do these problems in his fucking _sleep_ , but today (for the first time) he let himself wonder why the fuck Free kept looking over his shoulder at him with blank looks on his stupid face. 

 

He’d probably done it twenty times in the last half an hour. 

 

Did he do this every day, thinking Michael couldn’t see him?

 

Jeez, maybe Free really was an idiot. 

 

“Class!True or False — to find the linear approximation to a function at x = a, you need to know the first derivative of that function.”

 

While everyone (including Michael) was processing the statement, Gavin’s hand crawled up with a lazy air to the movement.

 

“Ah, yes! Gavin?”

 

“It’s true. The linear approximation L(x) to a function f(x) is given by L(x) = f(a) + (x - a) f '(a) , where f ' is the derivative of f.” 

 

Michael’s jaw dropped. Gavin spat out the information like it was ground into his very being. Like he was breaking stereotypes merely by existing. 

 

Their teacher grinned widely. “Very nice, Mister Free. Keep it up and you’ll be getting an A on the exam. Which, as you all know, is next Friday!” 

 

Tuning the teacher out, Michael focused his gaze onto the back of Gavin’s neck. Where the fuck did that come from? 

 

Gavin swiveled around in his chair to grin first at Ryan, a couple of seats to Michael’s left, then at Michael himself. Then he turned back around quickly to take a couple of new notes that had appeared on the blackboard.

 

All Michael could do was blink slowly at the back of Gavin’s neck.

 

The fuck was going on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay but I don’t think you understand — he spat out the answer to an application of the derivative question in like two seconds flat! Before I could even process the _question_!” Michael exclaimed, beanie nearly flying off his head due to his extreme hand gestures directed at his friends, who were walking with him back to his house after school. “Isn’t he supposed to be a dumbass? I’m pretty sure he’s scared of wet fucking bread and that he tried to buy ‘headlight fluid’ from Kerry’s dad’s auto shop.”

 

Barbara smirked, hands moving to her own beanie (perched atop her head somehow perfectly, not shoved on like Michael’s) to adjust it slightly. “Maybe he’s getting _tutoring_ from Ryan Haywood.” 

 

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. Ray scoffed loudly, stopping a split second after him before rolling his eyes. “Haywood’s not doing the best in the class, so that can’t be right.” 

 

Miles cast a glance over his shoulder from where he was standing with Kerry to stare Ray down. “You don’t take AP Calc though. How would you know that?”

 

Ray immediately turned red. “Um. I don’t know. I assumed. He’s a jock, you know?”

 

Michael shut down his Gavin thoughts for a minute to join in with the group staring Ray down. “Ray, are you getting it on with Haywood?”

 

Ray spluttered for a good thirty seconds before Barbara punched him in his shoulder, an incredulous look on her face. “Why the fuck would you do that? You’ve had a crush on Joel since sophomore year!”

 

“ _What_?!” Michael squeaked. Ray’s mouth fell open to try and reply, but Kerry beat him to the punch. “What is it with you and jocks, man?” 

 

“No! Okay — no. I’m not fucking Haywood, and fuck you Barb for telling everyone that. I know that Ryan sucks dick at Calculus because Joel took the class last year and he volunteers to help out his old teacher once in a while. So he gets to hear the teacher bitch about how Ryan’s like six points away from failing the class. That’s all!” Ray exclaimed, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets and sinking into himself. 

 

Barbara simply stared at him. “You’re talking to Joel?” 

 

Ray winced. “Maybe?” 

 

“Oh my fucking god, Joel’s the guy you met on X-Box Live, isn’t it? The one you’re talking to every night over Skype? Holy shit why didn’t you tell us?!” Michael yelled excitedly. “Now _this_ should be Operation Sad Sack of Shit!”

 

“Oh my god, bye!” Ray yelled over his shoulder as he ran down the block.

 

“Wait, come back! I haven’t finished bitching about Gavin yet, damn it!”

  
  
Michael took off after Ray, with Barbara, Miles, and Kerry right behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael is horny. Sorry (not sorry) about that.


	3. i'll fall for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘TEXT FROM CABOOSE’,” Miles read off, “‘WANNA PLAY HALO 2NITE? ALSO HOPE 2 SEE U AT GRIFFON’S FREE :-)’”

“Get ready to love me forever.” Barbara exclaimed matter-of-factly, her iPhone clutched in her right hand tightly as she excitedly bounced up and down in her place on Michael’s sofa. They had been in Michael’s basement (where his entire gaming center was set up) for the past two hours, and Ray and Michael were in an intense versus in Halo 4. Barbara had been spending her time cheering for whoever was losing like the supportive friend she was, as well as chatting idly with Miles and Kerry, who were working on the layout for their new short film that they wanted Barb to star in.

 

“We already love you Barb,” Michael shot back from his place on the floor next to Ray, voice dripping with sarcasm (though Barbara knew the other four really did love her). “Shut up, dick. You wanna hear the news or not?” she said with a grin, giving the face of her phone a quick tap to keep it lit up. 

 

A heartbeat later, Ray’s familiar screech of “OOOOOHHHHH SUCK IT, NERD!” coupled with Michael’s wail of “FUCK FUCK FUCK GODDAMNIT RAY!” promptly shocked Kerry nearly off of his seat, causing Miles to reach a hand out to steady him. 

 

“You got _boned_ , son!” Ray screamed, grinning right into Michael’s fake glare and crossed arms. 

 

“Fuck this game.” Michael turned to Barbara expectantly, who was too busy cackling at Ray’s outburst to notice. 

 

A lot of collective laughing and fifteen minutes later (which included Ray playfully tackling Michael into his carpet and causing Michael to call for “BACKUP, FUCK” to Miles and Kerry, whoreplied with “Huh? We can’t hear you, buddy”), Barbara finally caught her breath enough to expel her news. “Guys, guys. Seriously, though — Lindsay texted me like twenty minutes ago telling me that someone’s parents are out of town this weekend and there’s going to be a massive free from Friday night to Sunday night!” 

 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting that we’re probably the lamest friend group in our entire _high school_ and that none of us have been to a party since the Kerry Incident of Sophomore Year?”

 

“Hey — it wasn’t _that_ bad…” Kerry muttered indignantly, raising an eyebrow at Miles seated next to him. “Was it actually that bad?”

 

“Kerry, we both got so drunk that I stole Barbara’s miniskirt, wore it and left her running around in her underwear — not that she cared, while you tried to steal the skirt back and screamed for two hours at me about feminism and ‘protection of the lady parts!’” Miles retorted, not even looking up from the script he had been editing. 

 

Kerry blinked slowly. “I never said that.” 

 

“You asked seventeen people where you could find a chastity belt for ‘the fair maid Dunkelman’.” 

 

“This is exactly why we don’t talk about the Kerry Incident of Sophomore Year.” Michael said dryly.

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Barbara cut in pointedly, “Party. Friday. Everyone’s going. We should go.” 

 

“Reminder that we’re losers!” Ray replied helpfully, before his phone sounded off with a _ding!_ that signaled an incoming text message. “Oh. One sec, I’ll talk you guys out of this in like five minutes.” 

 

Barbara rolled her eyes. “We’re not losers, we’re just socially inept! I feel like this is a really good chance for us to meet people — like _I_ wanna hook up with someone. Michael’s thirsty for Gavin Free’s dick. Miles and Kerry could probably go make out in a closet or something. This is good for us!” 

 

Miles gagged. “No. God no.”

 

“We tried that once and it just did not work.” Kerry supplied, nodding solemnly. 

 

Ray’s phone _ding_ ed again, and Miles groaned. “I fucking hate your text tone, would you change it already?” and grabbed the phone smoothly out of Ray’s clutch. Ray screeched and launched himself at Miles to try and grab his phone back — to no avail. “Oh fuck, who’s Caboose?!” Miles said excitedly. 

 

“Fuck me. Fuck me right now.” Ray groaned, slumping onto the floor in a pile of sadness.

 

“‘TEXT FROM CABOOSE’,” Miles read off, “‘WANNA PLAY HALO 2NITE? ALSO HOPE 2 SEE U AT GRIFFON’S FREE :-)’”

 

Barbara grinned. “That is the gayest thing I’ve heard since finding out Michael liked it when Free checked his ass out.” 

 

“Shut the fuck up, Dunkelman!” Ray screamed from his floor-pile. 

 

“Why the fuck does he use noses in his smiley faces? What a freak.” Miles noted, throwing the phone back into Ray’s general vicinity. 

 

Kerry giggled a little, sitting up straighter. “Do you seriously have code names for each other? Because ‘Caboose’ is the dumbest. You’re actually calling him the butt of a train.” 

 

“Shut. Up. Now.” 

 

“I really hope Joel hasn’t saved Ray’s name in his phone as BrownMan, to be honest,” Michael interjected calmly, selecting options in the settings menu of _Halo_. 

 

Ray spluttered audibly from his spot on the floor. “That’d be fucking stupid”, he supplied, as Barbara perked up immediately. 

 

“Lindsay told me that she once saw Joel texting someone with one of those yellow heart emojis. Everyone tore into him like ‘Oh my god, who is she’ and Joel totally flat out refused to tell them,” she supplied between smug giggles.

 

“That means nothing!” Ray screeched. 

 

“Oh, bro. That means _everything_.” Miles said through a grin. 

 

“O _kay_ , I’m fuckin’ done talking about Ray’s gay nightmare.” Michael said before promptly moving onto the couch and shoving his head into Barbara’s lap without precedent. “Braid my hair and sing me a lullaby because this shit is too gay for me and I don’t wanna live through this.”

 

Barbara shoved her hands into Michael’s hair immediately. “Okay, I’m actually gonna braid your hair though. Just sayin’.” 

 

Michael frowned deeply and batted her hands away. “No. Fuck you. Tell me about Free. Who does he like? Do we know them? Are they a he or a she? Or other pronouns? _Tell me_.” He whispered desperately. 

 

“Yo, man… I kinda regret us finding out that you’ve had the hots for Free for like three years because you actually turn into a twelve year old girl talking about the crush she’s like totally gonna marry one day like, oh my god!” Kerry exclaimed before elbowing Miles in the stomach excitedly. 

 

Ray snorted from his spot on the floor, where he was still face down in shame, most likely still texting Joel under the pretense of embarrassment, as his phone was obviously hidden under his sweatshirt.

 

Barbara, still with Michael’s head in her lap, sighed loudly and smacked the top of Michael’s head (who intelligently screamed, “Bah!”). “Are we going to this goddamn party or not?”

 

“We’ve given you sufficient evidence as to why Kerry and I are definitely not going,” Miles replied emotionlessly, coupled with a tired nod from Kerry. “We have a script to write, anyway.” 

 

Barbara pouted. “Ray? You coming? I need a designated driver at some point…” 

 

Ray’s head popped up at the sound of his name. “Oh yeah, totally. I gotchu Barb.” 

 

She spluttered, smiling down at him. “I know you’re only going because there’s a slight chance that Joel will finally develop the guts to say hi to you in public, and I am completely okay with that. You are also free to use my needing a ride home from the party as your casual excuse for being there in the first place.” 

 

Ray flashed finger guns at her before flopping back down into his sweatshirt. 

 

“Michael?” Barbara prompted gently, poking his head. 

 

“I don’t wanna,” he whined.  


 

Barbara smirked. “Okay! Ray, Michael and I are going to this party! Fuck yeah! Friends!”

 

The look on Michael’s face could only be described as “let down”. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, okay. What about that other dude, Aaron somethin’? Would you hook up with Aaron something?” Geoff Ramsey offered much too loudly to the group of jocks he was standing in front of.

 

“What, the dude on the fencing team?” Joel answered, casting nervous glances toward the corner of the room.

 

“Yeah, yeah, that guy. The one who’s like bisexual or something. Whatever that means.” Geoff replied before chugging the rest of his “mixer” — also known as vodka mixed with another brand of vodka.

 

Joel rolled his eyes, casting a ‘would you believe this guy’ look at Gavin and Ryan, who were positioned next to him. “It means he likes both girls and —”

 

“Shut up, shut up, I _know_ what that means. I was just trying to sound ignorant and cool. _I’m_ bisexual, you dumbass. Answer the goddamn question.” He tossed his red solo cup away from his group, in the general vicinity of the trash can, before glaring drunkenly at Joel again.

 

Joel looked past Geoff again awkwardly, straight to a couple of nerds in the corner. Then he snapped his gaze back to Geoff’s. “Uh. Nah. Not for me. Not my, um… type.” 

 

Ryan scoffed, rolling his eyes and sipping at his beer before replying, “Aaron Marquis is hot. I think anyone can see that.” 

 

Gavin elbowed him in the stomach. “Shut up, Haywood.” 

 

“What, are you jealous?” Ryan grinned, moving in to kiss Gavin’s cheek.

 

“Ugh, lay off.”’ Gavin replied, moving to leave the group of jocks but getting caught around the waist by Ryan, who smirked and held out another beer to him.

 

“Okay, that was the gayest conversation I’ve ever heard.” Michael stage-whispered to Ray, who was stationed next to him across the room from the jocks. Ray blinked blankly at Michael and took a slow sip of his apple juice (a drink that Barbara had packed for him out of love and respect). 

 

“Do you think that when Joel said that Aaron Marquis wasn’t his type, he meant that I was?” he murmured, biting at the plastic cup and muffling his words a little. 

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “Well _that_ might be a bit of a stretch.” 

 

“Let me dream.” Ray sighed. “It’s just, he keeps looking over here. He’s either looking at me, you, or Barbara.” 

 

Barbara was currently half-dancing, half-grinding on a random from the basketball team with an ugly haircut but nice arms. 

 

“Probably Barb,” Michael and Ray said in unison. 

 

A couple of minutes passed with Michael and Ray awkwardly staring between Barbara and the jocks before they both heard Joel obviously say, “Him? Pfft… of course not, he’s a fuckin’ nerd…no…” and Ray’s face lost all color as he made eye contact with Geoff, then with Joel.

 

Michael’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Ray, and his hand went out to grab Ray’s shoulder, but Ray pushed him away with an awkward laugh. “No.”

 

Ray scoffed, shaking his head and reaching into his pocket for his phone instinctively. “Nope.” He unlocked it, went straight into his messages app, and shook his head at his messages with “CABOOSE” for a couple of heartbeats before he deleted all of them. “Fuck you, Joel,” he muttered under his breath. 

 

Michael winced, assuming that what he had learned today about Ray’s relationship with Joel was nowhere near the truth. And that Joel was a piece of shit. He turned to look at Ray one last time before he stepped forward and tapped Barbara on the shoulder, who immediately made eye contact with him, her eyes widening, and moved quickly past the guy she was dancing with to talk to Ray. Then, he stormed across the room toward the jocks, who were grinning at each other. 

 

As he approached them, Gavin straightened up a little and cleared his throat as Ryan cocked his head at Michael’s appearance, not sure of what was going on.

 

Michael smiled sardonically at the group. “Hi. I’m Michael Jones,” he introduced himself directly to Joel. “You don’t know me. Your friends probably don’t know me. All I used to know about you guys is that you’re jocks. You know, _completely_ different steps on the social ladder.” His smile faded as he continued, stepping closer to Joel. “Emphasis on _used_ to know about you. Because thanks to the really loud conversation you decided to have tonight, I now know that you, Joel Heyman, are an asshole.”

 

“Hey — who the fuck do you think you are?” Geoff exclaimed, stepping forward. 

 

“As I fucking said, I’m Michael Jones. _Anyway_ , I want you to stay the fuck away from Ray. If you don’t even have the courage to say hello to him in public, you are nowhere near worthy his time, energy, or respect. You don’t fucking deserve him. Fuck you.” 

 

With that, Michael turned away and walked calmly back in the direction of Ray and Barbara, who both had tiny smiles on their faces. 

 

“Hey thanks, Michael,” Ray offered, his phone and apple juice still gripped in his hands. 

 

“No problem. You wanna head home?” Michael asked, refusing to turn around to glance at the jocks. 

 

“Nah, I’m good. Barb has yet to hook up with anyone yet, and Gavin keeps looking at you with his mouth hanging open. I think he has a boner.”

 

Michael felt his face heat up. “Shit. I forgot he was there — fuck it. All I care about is whether or not you’re okay.”

 

“Wow, gay…” Ray replied, grinning.

 

“Yeah, pretty homo, Mikey,” Barbara supplied. 

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a fucking drink. Yelling at assholes makes me thirsty.”

 

“Yeah, you are!” Ray offered, louder than before. 

 

Michael rolled his eyes before moving into the kitchen in search of ice and alcohol. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

2 AM found Michael on the end of a couch with four beers and a couple of a lot of shots of vodka in his system. Barbara and Ray were a couple of feet away from him, dancing their asses off, ignoring the rest of the world. And that made Michael happy. 

 

He didn’t need Gavin. He didn’t need anyone. Except for his friends. Wow, he had great friends. 

 

He bounced a little up and down on the sofa. Everything was tingly, and he was buzzed. So goddamn buzzed. Nice. 

 

Someone sat down gently on the couch next to him when he was mid bounce. Well, fuck that guy.

 

He glared up at the dude next to him, then immediately nearly choked on his own spit.

 

Gavin Free. Next to him. Couch. What. 

 

He was smiling. What.

 

Gavin settled into the back of the couch and slowly, painfully, raised his arm until it was resting on the back of the couch behind Michael. 

 

Michael’s breathing quickened. Gavin was still smiling at him peacefully.

 

Out of sheer panic, Michael bounced a little on the sofa again, then let himself lean back. He tipped his head back until he back of his neck was touching Gavin’s arm, and Gavin’s hand immediately found its way to his shoulder, so Michael took that as permission to settle into his arm. 

 

He huffed out a little sigh and cast a tiny glance to his left, where Gavin was looking at him with the…softest gaze he had ever seen. 

 

And he smiled. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! :^)


	4. we're good at being troubled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t even know what it feels like, you gay virgin.” Ray chimed in helpfully from next to him before shoving a mouthful of what looked like mushy sloppy joe meat into his mouth. 
> 
> “Um. I could come back later, if that’s more convenient?” a voice from directly behind Michael questioned sheepishly.

 

It was on Tuesday afternoon that everything (as Michael so eloquently phrased it to his friends) went to ‘complete and utter shit’. 

 

 

* * *

 

Monday 

 

* * *

 

“Okay, recap for me,” Barbara demanded at lunch Monday afternoon. The weekend had been rough for her and Michael in particular, the only two in their friend group that had gotten remotely — aka  _extremely —_ hammered at Griffon’s party the Friday before. Nursing hangovers and ignoring most of the messages coming in from the rest of the group was tough stuff. “I genuinely remember next to nothing from that party, we’re all here now, recap.” 

 

Michael remembered much more from that god forsaken party than he had liked to admit. His weekend in particular was spent on his bed, face down, groaning, trying not to read into Free’s (if Michael referred to him as Gavin in his head now, all would be lost) actions from the night in question. And he was going _crazy_ , experiencing one too many flashbacks of couch bouncing and arms wrapped around him, not to mention angry yelling at jocks that were so unbelievably stupid he was surprised they knew how to put one foot in front of the other half the time. 

 

“Yeah, it’s a little hazy for me too,” Michael supplied. Blatant lie. He remembered exactly how it felt to have Free’s arm around him. What they did on Friday could be described as cuddling. _Cuddling_. Michael wanted to punch himself in the face. 

 

“I’d honestly rather not relive my night,” Ray commented sullenly. Barbara immediately winced, suddenly remembering exactly why she had stopped her night of grinding on various varsity boys in order to dance with Ray.

 

“Okay, maybe we shouldn’t?” Barbara questioned meekly, looking down at her sandwich and avoiding eye contact.

 

Ray laughed a little. “Barb, it’s fine.” He paused for a second, ignoring the pitiful looks he immediately received from Miles and Kerry, who had been left to assume what exactly had gone down that Friday evening. Ray smirked, putting on a ruse of confidence, but Michael could genuinely see the sadness in his eyes. Which pissed him the fuck off. Until Ray opened his mouth again and declared loudly, at a volume several notches higher than the droning conversation of the entire cafeteria around him, “Joel’s just araging asshole with a _tiny dick_.” 

 

Michael immediately choked on his chocolate milk, laughter spilling out of him until the milk began to drip out of his nose. “Dear sweet baby Jesus,” he exclaimed, wiping his nose quickly.

  
Barbara, who had been cackling from the moment Ray had mentioned a ‘raging asshole’, stopped when she noticed the entirety of the table of jocks, Joel and Gavin included, staring at their table of losers in complete shock. “Fuck, look at their stupid pretty faces.”

 

Michael whirled around, still giggling a little, and made accidental eye contact with Free, who was slack jawed and pink cheeked. Michael cleared his throat pointedly, refusing to dwell on that, before letting his gaze rest on Joel, who was trying desperately to catch the attention of Ray. Michael rolled his eyes and turned back around in his seat. 

 

“Asshole keeps trying to catch your eye,” he commented, nodding at Ray. 

 

Ray scoffed, shoving a handful of Cool Ranch Doritos into his mouth. “Dude’s gay and I look good. What do you expect?”

 

 

* * *

 

 Tuesday

  

* * *

 

 

“My chemistry teacher suggested that I get fucked in the ass by AP Chemistry for senior year.” Kerry stated, making casual conversation. 

“You should do it!” Miles replied encouragingly. 

 

Kerry glared at him immediately. “Dude, what part of ‘get fucked in the ass’ do you not understand?” 

 

“I understand it pretty well,” Michael returned snidely, met with a tiny shriek from Barbara. Michael squinted slightly at her, a tiny smile at his lips. “I didn’t know ass fucking was that funny to you, Barb.”

 

“No — oh my god, _no_ ,” Barbara said quickly, a slight hint of panic in her voice, lifting one of her hands to wave it around, almost as if she was trying to tell Michael something. Michael raised an eyebrow at her before dismissing her weird behavior and turning to Miles and Kerry next to her, about to crack another joke about dicks.

 

“You don’t even know what it feels like, you gay virgin.” Ray chimed in helpfully from next to him before shoving a mouthful of what looked like mushy sloppy joe meat into his mouth. 

 

“Um. I could come back later, if that’s more convenient?” a voice from directly behind Michael questioned sheepishly. Michael immediately flushed a deep red at the accented voice and he slowly placed his plastic utensils down onto the cafeteria-issued styrofoam plate in front of him. He took a moment to compose himself, noting that his ears were too warm — he _hated_ blushing; it turned his whole upper body deep shades of pink — before turning around ever so slightly to meet the gaze of Gavin Free. 

 

Barbara, who had been making strangled noises the whole time, had finally quieted, only to mutter under her breath, “I tried to tell you…” in a sing-song voice, before getting elbowed in the arm by Miles. 

 

All Michael could do was blink blankly at the British boy, too many questions on his mind. Why the fuck, after the party incident four days ago, did Free think he had the right to come to his lunch table and make him blush like this? It was ridiculous. Michael was pissed. 

 

Free opened his mouth, a sheepish look on his face. “O-or, I could… stay here and do it now.” His voice was lilting, pleasing to Michael’s ears, but not to Kerry’s, whose mouth snapped open immediately.

 

“Stop messing around and tell us why you came here. Especially after the shit you and your friends pulled at Griffon’s party last weekend.” Kerry’s eyes squinted slightly, his usually soft gaze turning into a more angry glare. “I don’t know why you think you have the right to do whatever you want, but just spit it out so you can get back to your shitty friends.” 

 

It was the most Kerry had ever strung together at once, as well as the sternest the boy had ever been. Michael’s eyebrow raised again in slight shock before he managed to make eye contact with Free again. “Yeah, why the fuck are you here?” he questioned, point-blank. 

 

Free opened his mouth, beginning to stammer again, completely out of character for the jock — Michael was angered that he found it cute — “I, um. Just came over to see if um. Michael—”

 

Ray, who had steadily been glaring at his food throughout the entire exchange, snapped his gaze up to glare heatedly at Gavin. “If Michael _what_?” 

 

Gavin blushed a pretty shade of light pink. 

 

“If Michael, um. Wanted to sit with me at lunch?”

 

A chorus of mutual sounds of choking on food could be heard from the rest of the group. Gavin promptly turned a darker shade of pink, flashing an awkward half-smile directly towards Michael. His expression otherwise was a little off — something that looked suspiciously like _hope_ , also known as something that Michael would never let himself believe. 

 

Michael also refused to give Gavin the benefit of the doubt. 

 

To him, the only reason as to why Free had come to his lunch table to ask this absolutely absurd question (what happened to social hierarchy?! Jocks didn’t talk to nerds!) was because he had a disgusting, horrible prank to play. 

 

Not today, asshole. 

 

“Why the fuck would I want to sit with _you_ at lunch?” Michael shot back matter-of-factly, his facial expression becoming that of extreme hatred. He watched Gavin’s face fall ever so slightly, most likely because he realized that his shitty attempt to prank Michael had failed. 

 

Gavin bit his lip lightly before replying, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Michael.” 

 

The way he said Michael’s name was unfairly fond. So he scoffed, brushing the affection off as quickly as he could. “I definitely don’t want to.” 

 

Barbara squeaked in alarm, and Michael could hear her whispering to Kerry, “What the fuck is he doing?” Michael turned around quickly to glare at her, shutting her up, then turned back to Gavin expectantly. 

 

“That’s quite all right.” Gavin said softly in his stupid, lovely accented voice, shrugging his shoulders lightly. 

 

The little smile was still on his face, but it was tinged with sadness, making Michael’s heart beat faster. He hadn’t actually _wanted_ to sit with Michael, had he? 

 

Of course he hadn’t. 

 

“Okay,” Michael replied flatly, turning fully around again. “Bye.”  

 

There was a pause, then Michael heard his voice once more.

 

“Bye, Michael.” 

 

Michael heard Gavin’s soft footsteps walking away, back to _his_ table. He began to worry his lip between his teeth, almost drawing blood but not caring at all. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Michael lifted his head and found not only his lunch table of Barbara, Miles, Kerry and Ray staring him down, but neighboring tables as well, all with expressions containing wide-eyed, surprised looks. Of course they were wondering why he didn’t say yes. Fuck.

 

“…Michael,” Ray began quietly, then promptly got hit in the head by a Dorito. Most likely thrown by Barbara. “Hey, fuck you!” 

 

Michael cracked a smile, rolling his eyes and finally making eye contact with his friends. 

 

“You okay, dude?” Miles questioned carefully, his eyebrow raised casually.

 

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, of course. That shit was just weird.”

 

“‘Just _weird’_? That was suspicious as fuck!” Kerry exclaimed, slapping a hand down onto the table for emphasis. 

 

“Yeah, right after the events of that shitty party, he has the audacity to try and pull a prank on me?” Michael agreed, spitting out his words angrily while picking up his fork to stab at his food. 

 

Barbara let out a low groan, alarming Michael and making him jerk his head up to look at her. “A _prank_? You thought that was a prank?”

 

Michael raised a brow, staring her down, but before he could dismiss Barbara’s stupidity, she continued. “I think he’s actually being serious. I bet he’s had a crush on you just as long as you’ve had a crush on him — maybe even longer — and you’re being _mean_ for no goddamn reason!”

 

Everyone at the table knew she was about to start ranting, so Miles, Kerry, and Michael each breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when Ray scoffed, holding up a hand to cut her off. “We’re not in a fucking 90’s teen movie, Barb. Real life doesn’t work like that.”

 

Barbara whirled around to face Ray. “Well, maybe real life can work like that for Michael!” she exclaimed. 

 

“Joel and I had a 90’s teen movie feel to our… _relationship_.” Ray scoffed at the word before continuing. “Whatever you want to call that shit show. We video chatted every night, played games every night, watched movies together. We knew everything about each other —I know all of his family members, and he knows all of mine, including _extended_ family. I thought we flirted so much it drove me crazy every day to sit here with you guys, knowing he was just a couple feet away.” Ray paused, taking in the slightly shocked faces from his friends, smiling ever so slightly. “That was the problem. He made me hide it. Just like a stereotypical teen couple in a stereotypical teen movie, the popular guy makes the nerd hide their friendship, relationship, whatever. And sure, they get together in the end for real -- but look what happened to _us_. Real life just doesn’t work like that.” 

 

There was a pause. The bell signaling the end of lunch began to ring brightly, echoing throughout the cafeteria. 

 

Barbara shook her head, standing up as soon as Ray got up to start throwing away his tray of half eaten food, the events of the day having left food on everyone’s plate. “Ray, I’m sorry—”

 

“It’s okay, Barb. I’m just saying that Michael isn’t in the wrong for being wary of Gavin’s actions,” Ray replied. Barbara bit her lip and promptly launched herself into Ray’s chest, whispering “sorry” one more time before he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. 

 

Michael took in the exchange. He was extremely glad that his friends had his back — he knew Barbara was just being a hopeless romantic, wishing that his longtime crush would actually work out — but Ray was more right than he had ever been before.

 

Real life meant that Michael would never be with Gavin Free, no matter how many times he daydreamed in math class about wrapping his arms around the boy or kissing his cheek. He’d never go on a date with him to a movie theater and they’d never get to make out in the back row, bathed in darkness. He’d never be able to call Gavin ‘his’; he’d never be ‘Gavin’s’. They would never be together, because that’s just how life worked. 

 

Of course, he genuinely didn’t think that he’d ever stop wanting Gavin. The sheer idea of ‘moving on’ from something he never had made Michael want to laugh (or maybe cry), but he knew it was never going to happen.

 

He would try. And then Gavin would tilt his head back ever so slightly and laugh in such a way that he somehow made Michael believe that the sun shined so brightly out of his ass that the boy just _couldn’t_ be real. Or he’d run his fingers through his sandy colored hair and Michael would yearn to do the same. Or he’d turn to look at Michael in math class and Michael would look into his blue-green eyes, remember how he felt in freshman year to see his eyes for the first time, and his stomach and heart would manage to twist at the same time, and Michael would be reminded — 

 

He could never move on. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Suck. At. Updating. I. Know.
> 
> Shout out to Ramona Flours, the greatest person in the world, who half-beta'd this chapter and got very heated over this work as well as the fact that I. Suck. At. Updating. 
> 
> To anyone interested -- here was the original ending to this chapter, naturally, written by Ramona:
> 
> “If Michael, um. Wanted to sit with me at lunch?”
> 
> BARBARA SCREECHED VIOLENTLY, PULLING OUT HER KNIFE — “FUCK OFF” AND STABS GAVIN RIGHT IN THE FUCKING NOSE. HE YELPS IN PAIN AND FALLS TO THE FLOOR AND DIES IMMEDIATELY, BUT NOT BEFORE FLOPPING AROUND LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT. THE SECURITY GUARD COMES AND ARRESTS BARBARA. SHE GETS SENT TO PRISON. THIS IS NOW ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK.
> 
> In my opinion, this was the better ending, but I decided that I could not do an OITNB!AU justice.
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @ cwierz


	5. fucking with my emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff Ramsey, already half drunk. Ryan Haywood, brooding as always. Joel Heyman, slumped over a little and tired-looking. And of-fucking-course, Gavin Free, who was scampering up to the drinks bar every ten minutes, muttering about how he needed to get ‘sloshed’ tonight, whatever the fuck that meant.

It was all so surreal. 

 

Michael had expected the encounter on Tuesday to be a one-off. He had expected Gavin to ask once, realize that his prank wasn’t going to work, then _give up_. 

 

Instead, Gavin asked Michael every day for the next ten school days — yes, Michael counted — to sit with him at his lunch table. 

 

It was so fucking weird. So out of the blue. And Gavin was so persistent — but for what? Did he really just want to execute his prank, or did he actually want Michael to sit with him? Michael had a shit ton of questions that no one he knew had the answers to. Every time he bitched about Gavin coming up to him, his friends would just shrug and shove chips into their mouths to avoid speculating about the whole situation, because truthfully, no one really knew what Gavin was up to.

 

Barbara was the only one still pushing Michael to say yes, albeit less outright than she had the first day. With every one of Gavin’s requests for Michael to sit with him, especially when they became an everyday thing, Barbara began to beg desperately for Michael to just sit with him already. And on the fifth day, the following Tuesday, Michael began to _want_ to give in to Gavin’s requests, to Barbara’s begging. To ignore whatever Kerry and Ray had warned him against. 

 

At that point, he had decided to himself that he didn’t care if Gavin just wanted to carry out a prank, Michael just wanted to know what it would feel like to sit next to him and see his eyes up close again. 

 

It was honestly torture.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Wednesday, the first day _

 

Barbara cleared her throat pointedly, making direct eye contact with Michael. Her eyebrow quirked and she moved her gaze upwards to something or someone, gave a half smile, then let the smile fade as she made eye contact with Michael once more. 

 

Michael felt his brows furrow, and he turned around confusedly to see a British boy standing above him, beaming like seeing Michael up close was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

 

“Alright?” the ray of sunshine said to him. 

 

He was back. Why the fuck was he back? Michael felt his jaw go slack, his lips parting at the sight of him. 

 

“Why the fuck are you back?” Ray spat out, cafeteria taco clenched in his hand, making a motion towards the boy. 

 

Gavin shrugged at Ray before smiling down at Michael again. “I’m here to make the same offer I did yesterday.” 

 

Michael shook his head, brows still furrowed together. He forced his features into something more standoffish rather than sheer awe. 

 

“My answer’s the same as yesterday. You’re wasting your time,” he muttered, shrugging and turning to face his lunch again, pointedly ignoring Barbara’s hiss of dissent. 

 

“That’s alright, Michael. I’ll see you in class.” 

 

There was a pause between his lunch table listening to Gavin’s footsteps pad away gently and Barbara breaking into hysterics. 

 

Ten minutes later, after Miles and Kerry had managed to stuff a cupcake into her mouth she was left exhibiting a confused expression that looked like it was caught between hatred and adoration for the cupcake in her mouth, Ray finally opened his mouth.

 

“So is this gonna be a _thing_ now?” he asked, fingers tapping lightly at the wood of the table in front of him.

 

Michael immediately scoffed, crushing up an empty bag of tortilla chips and throwing it onto his lunch tray. “Better not be.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Monday, the fourth day  _

 

They all watched him walk away this time. 

 

After the fifth time that Gavin asked Michael to sit with him at lunch, of course with Michael turning him down, it was honestly really fucking weird that Gavin was still doing it. The guy just didn’t give up. 

 

Gavin made it back to his own lunch table and took his place next to Ryan like nothing was out of the blue. Ryan murmured something unintelligible to Gavin, but all Gavin did in response was shrug and grab a pear from a brown paper bag in front of him. Ray squinted his eyes at the interaction. 

 

“So this is a _thing_ now,” he commented airily, turning back around to raise a brow at Miles and Kerry, who smirked and nodded. “Called it.” 

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael muttered under his breath, his eyes on Gavin, who conveniently didn’t look up at him. 

 

Ray stabbed Michael in the side with his unused spork. “If you’re not gonna sit with the guy, don’t fuckin’ stare at him like he’s the actual sun.” 

 

Michael groaned, slapping Ray’s spork away. “I wanna sit next to him,” he whined pathetically, turning back around in his seat and slamming his head down onto the table. 

 

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Then say yes, dumbass!” 

 

“Fuck you,” Michael offered, still face down.

 

“She has a good point,” Miles offered sheepishly.

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Tuesday, the tenth and last day _

 

“He’s coming over now…” Barbara sang under her breath. Her saying that made Michael tense up, as per usual. It was actually kind of embarrassing that he still got excited over Gavin coming over to ask him to sit with him, even though he was just gonna turn him down anyway.

 

Michael turned around as soon as he felt Gavin’s familiar tap on his shoulder. “Yeah?” he questioned, trying not to smile.

 

Gavin smirked ever so slightly, his hand going up to push through his hair. “Somehow, the offer’s still open.” His hand fell to his side. “Do you want to sit with me at lunch, Michael?” 

 

Michael bit his lip, his slightly sweaty hands moving to rest on his knees. It pissed him off that Gavin made him this nervous. “I have to say that I’m gonna stick with my usual answer.” 

 

Gavin nodded solemnly. He and Michael both ignored the angry hissing from Barbara, who was most likely whispering to Miles, Kerry, and Ray how she was going to smother Michael with his own pillow tonight, which had become a consistent, disturbing threat from the tiny blonde. 

 

“That’s all right. I think I, er…finally get the point.” Gavin said sheepishly, shoving a hand into his pocket and offering Michael an awkward wave with his other hand. “Bye, Michael.”

 

Michael’s eyes widened at Gavin’s words. Did that mean he wasn’t going to ask anymore? Of course he wasn’t, Michael had shot him down eleven times. “Uh — bye,” Michael said quickly. “Sorry your prank didn’t play out as you’d planned.” 

 

Gavin raised an eyebrow in sheer confusion. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then shook his head, turning around to walk back to his table for the last time. 

 

Immediately, Barbara tore into him. “It’s not a prank, asshole! He looked so confused when you said that!”

 

Michael shook his head, still facing the direction of Gavin’s table. “I don’t know anymore, Barb.”

 

“He actually wanted you to sit with him. That’s all you need to know,” she muttered back before sullenly stabbing at her pasta. 

 

Michael scoffed, finally turning around to face his friends. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. All I care about now is that if he _did_ , I just blew all my chances with him. So I’d much rather believe that he was trying to fuck with me than believe that someone like him would actually want to be with me. I mean—” Michael paused to laugh softly to himself. “He’s Gavin Free. He’s the fucking sun.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

On Wednesday, Michael’s in Chemistry class, panicking _hard_ as he forgot today was a lab day and he had forgotten to complete last week’s lab — due at the end of class — when Caiti Ward nudges her lab report across the table to him. 

 

He feels the paper hit his nervously tapping fingers and he looks up in sheer gratitude, snapping open his binder to grab the undone lab report from last week, beginning to quickly paraphrase Caiti’s well comprised answers on titrations. 

 

“You are an actual goddess, I fucking love you,” he mutters as he surreptitiously passes the lab report back to her. Their teacher’s coming around to pass out lab goggles so that they could get started on the new lab, and Caiti’s smiling at him like what she did was nothing. 

 

“It’s no problem, Michael. You looked like you were gonna cry,” she returned, giggling a little. 

 

Michael grinned. “I probably was.” 

 

They go through the new lab quickly and efficiently. As per usual, Michael and Caiti finish the lab fifteen minutes before everyone else and they sit together in silence. 

 

“Hey, Michael,” she begins, a little shyly, and Michael’s gaze snaps to her. “I’m having a little party Friday night, do you want to come?”

 

Michael freezes, knowing he won’t know anyone there, knowing that he’ll get blackout drunk out of sheer boredom and end up dancing until he passes out, but also knowing that he can’t get out of it. The lab report was golden. “Oh shit yeah, of course!”

 

Caiti smiles gently, telling him that she’ll text him the details before realizing that they don’t have each others’ phone numbers. After a quick exchange, he has Caiti’s address safely saved in his phone, and he’s trapped. Fuck. 

 

The rest of the week is uneventful, with Gavin staying put at his own table and Michael trying desperately to get someone, anyone, from his friend group to go to Caiti’s party with him. However, Barbara committed to the final few shots of Miles and Kerry’s newest film (the same one they were planning _last_ party time), leaving all three of them indisposed on Friday night; and Ray’s parents refuse to let him out of the house until he understands basic trigonometric functions — which will be _never_ , as Michael won’t be there to teach him what he needs to know. 

 

The whole thing is a goddamn mess, and Michael can’t fix his awkward life because of a forgotten lab report. Fuck titrations. 

 

Whatever, at least he won’t have to deal with people he actually knows at this party. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ooh boy, Michael was _so_ wrong about not knowing anyone at this party. 

 

Naturally, he had made the mistake of not asking Lindsay to go to the party with him, as of _course_ Lindsay would be going to the party — she was the most popular cheerleader in the entire school. 

 

Now, if he had asked Lindsay, he would’ve known that Caiti Ward was actually Jack Pattillo’s _long term_ girlfriend of nearly three fucking years, meaning that Jack would obviously be at her party. And since Jack was on the soccer team with all the other jocks, they were all fucking there. 

 

All of them.

 

Geoff Ramsey, already half drunk. Ryan Haywood, brooding as always. Joel Heyman, slumped over a little and tired-looking. And of-fucking-course, Gavin Free, who was scampering up to the drinks bar every ten minutes, muttering about how he needed to get ‘sloshed’ tonight, whatever the fuck that meant. 

 

Michael intentionally lets his eyes slide over what he can see of Gavin on his mission to desperately stare down Lindsay until she finally stops flirting with one of the guys on the soccer team. Her eyebrows seem to nearly fly off her face when she realizes who's gazing creepily at her, and she slaps the jock's hand off her waist in order to freely make her way to Michael's corner of the room.

 

She bumps into him, hard, and both of their drinks immediately violently slosh about in their cups, dangerously about to spill out. "What the actual fuck are you doing here, Mikey?" she exclaims. Michael ignores the slight slurring of her words to steady himself as well as his drink before replying.

 

"I don't fucking know," he scoffs out, taking a quick gulp of his weird vodka and Coke Zero (questionable) mixer. "Caiti. It's all her fault. How was I supposed to know she was fucking Jack Pattillo, of all people? I mean, they're cute and all, but what the fuck?"

 

This all seems to make sense to Lindsay's addled mind, and she giggles a little too long before nudging Michael's elbow. “Everyone knows that. Pretty sure even Miles and Kerry knew that. Anyway — you're stuck here."

 

Michael glares at the ground bitterly. "Yes, I am."

 

Lindsay grins widely and downs the rest of her drink. "Want me to get you someone to make out with?"

 

Michael's eyes widen at her words, and his traitorous brain immediately projects an image of him and Free going at it, Michael's hands going under Free's shirt as they make out sloppily, giving Free a hickey, moaning obnoxiously in each other's ears, showing each other just how turned on they were...

 

"Um. No." Michael concludes with a shake of his head.

 

Lindsay shrugs. After a couple moments of Michael still staring angrily at his shoes, she goes to the bar and gets them refills, which just happens to be straight up whiskey (a contribution from Geoff Ramsey's personal [illegal] stock). Michael wants to down his entire drink just so he could fast-forward to waking up on the floor of Caiti's living room the next day, but he instead continues his moderate sipping every other minute.

 

Michael's feeling warm, his throat burning slightly with every slow sip, and his stomach feels like there's a small fire at the pit of it. He likes the feeling very much, until he lets his gaze run across the room again to Caiti's couch, where in plain sight, Gavin and Ryan are on top of each other, Ryan nearly undressing Gavin right there, to which Gavin seemingly has no qualms about, instead moaning constantly like there was nothing in the world he loved more. Gavin catches his eye for a millisecond. Everyone _ooh_ s as Ryan’s wandering hand lands right on Gavin’s — _ahem_.

 

The fire burns hot.

 

He hears Lindsay choke from next to him, and Michael sighs heavily, watching the two jocks go at it until it starts to physically affect him and he feels like he's going to throw up.

 

He swallows his nausea down with the rest of his whiskey.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michael ends up predictably getting so drunk he wakes up the next day with only the image of Gavin kissing Ryan running through his mind. He remembers almost nothing else. His face is stuck to Caiti's dad's leather sofa, disgustingly covered in drool. 

 

All he can think about is Gavin kissing someone else, Gavin giving someone else a hickey, hands that aren’t his _touching_ what isn’t _his_. 

 

He peels his face off the brown leather slowly, and a wave of nausea hits him simultaneously as the smell of day-old alcohol wafts towards him. He gags, and no one’s there to calm him down as his eyes scan over the room and he sees Free, sleeping peacefully on the floor a couple of feet away.

 

Now he knows what Gavin looks like while asleep. He almost laughs at the thought. Instead, he gags again, and manages to drag himself to a bathroom before he projectile vomits and embarrasses himself even more. 

 

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Michael sits at Gavin’s table, right next to him. The seat had always been empty; for some reason no one wanted to sit on Free’s right hand side. Gavin starts, and Michael smiles brightly at everyone. 

 

“Hello!” he greets cheerily, opening up the packaged salad he got from the lunch line. Everyone’s either looking at him weirdly or staring him down apart from Lindsay, who’s actually his friend (and who knows his tendency to lose his rationality sometimes), and Gavin, whose expression isn’t even curious or confused — just completely blank.

 

Michael smiles complacently as every single jock at the table looks at each other with the same ‘who the fuck does this guy think he is’ expression, until Geoff Ramsey speaks up — as he always does. 

 

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” he asks, and everyone’s gaze snaps to Michael. He knows what this looks like, he knows his own friends must be actually shitting themselves wondering what was going on, as he didn’t bother to extend either an explanation or a mere vague outline to them of what he was doing. 

 

Michael smirks easily as the question is extended to him. “Well, Gav here has been asking me to sit at this table for quite a while now. I figured it was an open invitation.”

 

As if on cue, Ryan bursts into quiet laughter, chuckling as his eyes shut with mirth. Gavin elbows him in the side immediately. 

 

Geoff raises an eyebrow at Michael for what painfully seems like an hour but is in reality about twenty seconds at most, then shrugs and turns back to Jack, continuing what seems to be a debate on whether or not big dicks come quicker than smaller ones.

 

In response, Michael begins stabbing at his lettuce in silence. He notes that Gavin doesn’t even bother to eat, and Michael doesn’t bother to comment on it, though he’s passively concerned. He refuses to dwell on it, though, instead giving his full attention to how off the Thousand Island dressing tastes. If he were safely at his own lunch table, with _his_ friends, not these abrasive jocks, he’d make a joke about it tasting like come, making Ray gag and Barbara laugh until she cries. He melodramatically misses his friends, even though it’s only an hour long lunch period. 

 

Michael stands up in tandem with the bell ringing, signaling the end of the lunch period. He flashes a confident smile, grabbing his lunch tray before turning so that everyone at the table can clearly see him. “Thanks for having me here, sitting in silence for an hour was absolutely _scintillating_.” He smirks before making a decision, and consequently turns to Geoff. 

 

“Geoff, you’re right. Big dicks do come quick. There have actually been studies done on that kinda shit. But Jack, you were also right; some dudes can have multiple orgasms. I hope you two realize that your entire discussion was entirely disgusting and I almost threw up my wilty lettuce.” He turns to Ryan, attempting to keep a glare off his face. “Ryan, number seven on your calc homework is wrong. And Lindsay —” he smiles at her; she tries to suppress a giggle, “I adore you. Thanks for inviting me, Free!” 

 

And he leaves, making his way to the bins at the far corner of the room to throw his trash out. His heart is beating wildly, partly from the split second confrontation he just had, partly from the chance he took to sit next to Gavin for an entire _hour_. He can hear Ryan laughing his ass off as he walks away, and Michael can feel his cheeks getting hot. He takes a moment at the bins to compose himself, and on his way out of the cafeteria, someone catches his arm.

 

As a sign that someone out there doesn’t completely hate him, it’s Gavin’s hand clutching at Michael’s bicep. Michael’s gaze drags from Gavin’s hand to his blue-green eyes, to his lips, and back to his eyes again. “Uh?” he questions intelligently.

 

Gavin simply smiles at him. “Thanks for sitting with me, Michael.” Michael’s heart flips traitorously at the way he says his name, and a smile spreads across his lips. 

 

“Oh,” Gavin continues, at the same moment that Michael realizes Gavin’s still holding him in place, that he’s touching him — “You’ve got an, uh. There’s an—” He breaks off, and Gavin’s other hand comes up to brush gently at Michael’s cheek a few times in succession, and Gavin’s so fucking close to Michael’s face, close enough to kiss, and…just as quickly as he stepped forward, he’s backing up again. 

 

Michael huffs out a quiet sound of disappointment, because the other boy’s hand slipped off his bicep as well, and Michael had felt like his skin was on fire where Gavin touched him. But Gavin’s smiling, and his hand’s reaching out again, reaching out until Gavin fucking Free’s fucking hand is on his _fucking hip_. Why is his hand there. Holy shit. 

 

Gavin’s hand very deliberately pats at Michael’s hip twice, and then he’s gone, leaving Michael’s heart to beat violently as he panics, standing at the bins in the corner of their dirty high school cafeteria. 

 

After what seems like ages, Michael’s friends attack him, screeching about how he “screwed with all of them”, how “that was so fucking amazing”, and “I love you, Michael Jones!”. Michael just smirks weakly, then heads to AP US History and the rest of his classes with a reluctant smile on his face. 

 

It’s not until he gets home that he realizes Gavin had slipped a crumpled piece of paper into his jacket pocket. After pulling it out from his pocket and smoothing it out, he sees slightly smudged numbers and words on the paper, and Michael’s heart beats faster for the umpteenth time that day. 

 

 

_Gav :^)_

_ring me up when you_

_get a chance_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hit 2,000 hits! Whaaaaat? 
> 
> This chapter is in honor of the AO3 user that bookmarked this fic with the tag "When will you return from the war?"
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. <3


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